


phinks is really gay

by oogenesis



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Awkward Crush, Awkward Sexual Situations, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, awkward everything, phinks is a huge fucking meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 02:42:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4162623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oogenesis/pseuds/oogenesis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Phinks has it bad for the boss and wishes he didn't.</p><p>As for Chrollo, well, the best thing that can be said about him is that he's not exactly oblivious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	phinks is really gay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MultifandomIzzy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MultifandomIzzy/gifts), [hexagonal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexagonal/gifts).



> well then hex. izzy. here it is. the sinbuddies featured on ao3
> 
> just realized i put an ace attorney reference in there. shit

There was a problem at hand.

Not a _problem_ kind of problem, the kind that would threaten the integrity of the Troupe or its plans. Not even a problem that threatened Phinks' personal safety, although it might as well have for all it was putting him through. No, this problem was so simple and so ridiculous he could barely admit it even to himself.

The problem was that Chrollo Lucilfer was an extremely attractive individual, and Phinks couldn't stop _noticing_.

It made him groan just thinking about it.

"What are you moaning about?" sniffed Feitan, looking up from his book. It was a very old and complex-looking book that probably contained etched medical diagrams and a few bloodstains. "If it's your stomach, I told you not to eat Uvo's cooking."

"It's not that," groaned Phinks, and then his eyes wandered over to Chrollo, who was reading. While shirtless. With candlelight dancing over the subtle lines of tight muscle under his skin... Phinks groaned again, long and heartfelt, and wished for a quick and painless death.

Feitan had followed his line of sight, and now his eyes narrowed in slight disgust. (This was for all intents and purposes his default expression already - the effect was one of intensifying the overall Feitan-ness.) "Really, Phinks? Really?"

"No, listen -" hissed Phinks, not even knowing what kind of a defense he was going to mount, but Feitan simply shrugged his wiry shoulders and returned to his book.

"I really don't care what sort of fantasies you have about the boss. Just keep it to yourself." He looked up from the pages long enough to shoot Phinks a withering glance. "And keep the moaning and whining to a minimum, it's distracting."

That was certainly a blow to his pride. Phinks opted to just shut up and deliberately look at neither Chrollo nor Feitan. It seemed the safest course of action.

•

The problem was that Phinks was not used to being like this - mooning over someone for such a long time, almost downright pining. This was unheard of. He was strong and unstoppable, for heaven's sake - if he wanted something, he found a way to get it, or else realized it was useless to him and then forgot about it. But this? Being perpetually flustered by the boss's smooth velvet voice, his air of imperturbable mystery, those deep-set and unfathomable grey eyes - and there he went again. It was at this point in these trains of thought that he would usually bash his head against the nearest wall and leave a spiderweb of cracks.

And another thing. He was used to inspecting the ladies, but this was the first time he'd felt anywhere near this strongly with anyone else. Chrollo Lucilfer was not a woman. Chrollo was - well, he was the _boss_ , and he fell well outside Phinks' usual pattern of attraction, and Phinks was pining like a schoolgirl over the distinctly not female leader of the troupe. His boss.

Pathetic.

"Get over it," came Feitan's voice from his right, and with it a pair of pliers that bounced off his head with a sharp thud. "You're not the uncaring manly man you've built yourself up as. You want to fuck the boss for some reason. Who cares. Get the fuck over it."

Phinks decided he was not going to take emotional advice from someone who was currently cleaning blood and gore off a wide array of torture instruments. He went back to internally ranting about how absurd this situation was, how utterly ridiculous, how intent the boss's clear gaze was as he discussed attack strategy with Pakunoda...

A sharp "tch" from Feitan, and this time the object that hit him on the head was a scalpel, the bloodstains only partially wiped off. Phinks decided to get up and move somewhere else.

-

90 minutes until heist time. The target was a thousand-year-old illuminated manuscript locked in an underground bunker, heavily guarded by a wealthy private collector. Chrollo had assembled the Troupe in the middle of the abandoned warehouse that was their base this time around, to go over the particulars of the plan one more time.

Phinks had loosened up the muscles in his arm, meditated for an hour for maximum Nen control, and sparred with Feitan to get that old bloodlust going, and he still felt uncomfortable. The reason being that Chrollo's voice was rich and measured against his ears, and the suit Chrollo was wearing for the occasion fit him very well, and most importantly, he was on a team with -

"By the way," said Chrollo, coming to the end of his briefing. "Phinks, the reason you're on my team is because you're the only one who is both powerful enough to break through the blast doors and small enough to be inconspicuous." (Sounds of muttering from Uvogin and Franklin.) "However, is this arrangement going to be a problem? I ask because your obvious attraction to me has been making you very distracted of late, and I wouldn't want you to lose focus during a critical moment. Is there something we can do about your sexual frustrations that could solve the problem?"

Wh

Ummm.

The only sound was a soft, raspy "hehehe" from Feitan. Phinks wet his lips and blinked; Chrollo was still gazing at him concernedly with those soft gray eyes.

Everyone else was staring. The realization jolted Phinks' brain into a panic, and he managed to hiss, "Um, boss, now is not the time, can we discuss this later -"

Chrollo blinked. One almost expected to hear an audible "plink" from his impossible eyelashes. "Oh. Really? I thought we might be able to get some suggestions from other Troupe members -"

"Boss _no_ -"

Too late. A barrage of noise had erupted already.

"Just fuck him!" yelled Uvogin and Machi in unison, to which Machi added, "We don't have time for this shit, just get it out of your system -"

"Who gives a damn if he's horny" - Nobunaga, irritated as usual - "it's his own damn fault -"

"The best way to fix those feelings is to have them out in the open and consummate them!" came Bonolenov's shrill, reedy proclamation, followed by a quiet "I agree," from Kortopi. Pakunoda actually giggled slightly, a hand held in front of her mouth.

"EAT HIS ASS, BOSS!" yelled Feitan, surprisingly loud for such a tiny body, and Shalnark chimed in with "You need to wine him and dine him first!" as Franklin rumbled, "If you're going to, then at least use protection - " 

A condom hit Phinks in the forehead, and he felt for sure he was going to die.

"ALL RIGHT, ENOUGH!" he yelled, and he knew how red his face must be and he didn't care. "Feitan, you - I'm going to murder you - and also you, Shalnark -"

Chrollo hadn't moved. He was gazing at the chaos with a face of mild confusion.

"I think you should go ahead with it, though," said Shizuku, and there was more catcalling and guffawing from - probably some combination of Uvogin, Feitan or Shalnark, but Phinks didn't care to find out. "It might help solve some issues of distraction. Only -" she checked her watch - "be quick about it. We're on a schedule."

"I don't need to be told that," pointed out Chrollo, and then turned to Phinks. "Well? I'm open to it."

" _Well_ ," said Phinks, and coughed, and coughed some more, and stooped and picked up the thrown condom from where it had bounced off his forehead. (More laughter from the captive audience.) He tried to think. Was it a possibility that his predicament might be a distraction during the mission? Would fucking the boss right now help the issue? And did he want to fuck the boss?

Unfortunately. Maybe. _Definitely._

Before he had time to think any more, Phinks reached out, grabbed Chrollo around the waist, lifted him up bodily, and ran out of the room. A variety of cheers, applause and wolf whistles followed him out, and he could feel his face actually fucking burn.

Outside there was a back alley, some ancient and empty trash cans, equally ancient crates piled against the back of the warehouse. Phinks was still holding his slightly winded boss off the ground; he set Chrollo down on one of the crates and stepped back.

They stared at each other.

"Well," said Chrollo, "I suppose that settles it," and he began unbuttoning his shirt with a briskness and practicality that the rapidly panicking Phinks could not bring himself to share.

"Uh," he said, and then, "we should kiss, right?"

Chrollo's fingers paused on the buttons. "Ah. Yes, probably." 

"Okay," said Phinks, and he was steeling himself when suddenly there were Chrollo's hands on either side of his face and holy fuck. The boss was kissing him?

The boss was kissing him and Phinks did not know how to respond. Some part of him felt as if he should be doing something... more? Shouldn't there be some tongue involved? Some groping or straddling? As it was he tried simply to relax against Chrollo's mouth because kissing him right now must be like kissing a statue -

Chrollo broke away. Phinks was left to gape like some kind of fish.

"Your hands are cold," was about the only thing he could say, because it was true. Then, "That. Did not go as planned. Let me try -" and on the second try he managed to accidentally smash their noses into each other but also put his tongue in Chrollo's mouth a little, and get a leg in between his thighs. It was nice. It would be nicer if he could unfreeze his brain from a constant state of "uhhhhhhh what."

They broke apart and stared at each other. Strands of Chrollo's hair were beginning to stick out of their gelled formation. That was also nice.

"What do you want to do now?" asked Chrollo, very earnestly, as though he was content to follow Phinks' lead, even though from the way he kissed he was probably the more experienced of the two and shit shit shit. Phinks was not leaving the best impression, was he? What did he want to do now?

"I - Clothes." Right. Clothes. "We should probably take those off."

"Probably," agreed Chrollo, and then slid the unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders and oh. Wow. Those were collarbones, all right. And shoulders, arms lean and tight with muscle. Pectorals. Fucking - fucking _nipples_. It wasn't like Phinks hadn't seen all this before, what with the boss's love of shirtlessness and all, but _context_. The context made it very different. Phinks swallowed. 

Right. Clothes.

He unzipped his tracksuit jacket and shrugged it off his shoulders and then he took off his undershirt and then he tried to take off his pants but his shoes got in the way. He had to take off his shoes first, and he got as far as pulling one off before he overbalanced and fell down on the asphalt of the alleyway. With his pants down around his ankles, God. He pulled off the other shoe and then he remembered something and said "Fuck!" very loudly.

"What is it?" asked Chrollo, still perched on the crate, and Phinks looked up to see him folding the shirt he'd just taken off. Right. Well. He could comment on that later.

"Lube!" said Phinks, louder than he'd have liked, and then, "I think. Right? Not sure but I think we might be, might need lube - Shit." He stood back up and pulled his pants back on, then hurried over to the door to the warehouse.

He could just hear someone - maybe Machi - say, "Well, they're taking their fucking time," before he steeled himself and stuck his head through the door and yelled "I NEED LUBE! SHALNARK I KNOW YOU HAVE SOME!"

He was deliberately looking at the ceiling and not at any of his fellow Troupe members, but he heard the laughter, and one wolf whistle from Uvogin. There was a sound that was probably Shalnark rummaging in a bag, then the bottle of lube came whizzing at him out of his peripheral vision - he caught it, said "THANKS" very loudly, and then ran back to where Chrollo was.

"I got the lube." He blinked. "What are you doing?"

Chrollo was sprawled over the pile of old crates, his limbs draped over the metal with its coat of flaking paint. "I thought you were the kind who liked seductive poses."

Phinks stared a moment more, then said, "Please never do that again."

"All right," said Chrollo, looking slightly miffed, and struggled back into something resembling a normal position. Phinks realized he was still holding the lube.

"Um, boss."

"Yes?"

"Can we still do the kissing thing for a bit?"

"All right," sighed Chrollo, reaching out and pulling Phinks in, "but remember, we're on a schedule -"

"Yeah, I _know_ about the schedule," mumbled Phinks into Chrollo's mouth, and then they did the kissing thing for a while more. After bringing his hands into Chrollo's hair and making a satisfying mess of the hitherto neat style, Phinks started to feel like he was actually getting the hang of it, and celebrated this development by abandoning Chrollo's mouth and giving some attention to his neck, shoulders and chest. That was very, very enjoyable, and Phinks let himself relax a little.

Then Chrollo pulled away and reached for the lube and Phinks' brain went _oh,_ and then, _we're going to_ use _that_ , and then kicked into a sort of whirring overdrive.

"Are you all right?" asked Chrollo, looking almost concerned, but seeming mostly focused on how to remove the cap on the bottle, which was stuck.

"Yeah -" It came out almost as a squeak. Pathetic. He cleared his throat, assumed what he hoped was his normal gruff confidence, and tried again. "Yeah, I'm fine. Let's do this." _You might never get another chance_ , he reminded himself. _It's now or never._

"Excellent," said Chrollo, and then the lid of the lube came off with a loud and obscene-sounding pop. "Excellent. Here." He held out the bottle. A clear strand of lubricant stretched down from the opening at the top. Phinks watched it glisten, half mesmerized. "You can do the honors."

Wait, wait wait wait, and there was another realization as he actually caught Chrollo's meaning. Phinks stared for a moment, and then spoke far too loudly. "But shit comes out of there! I'm not putting my fingers somewhere shit comes out of!" A heartbeat later he realized that was about the most unsexy thing he could have said.

Chrollo looked faintly amused - _shit_ \- and dipped his fingers into the bottle. They came out slick and dripping with the clear gel, and Phinks watched with almost horrified fascination. "All right then, I'll do it. No need to stress yourself."

"I wasn't stressing!" Phinks almost yelled. _Great job proving your own point there,_ he thought, but then didn't have time to think much more because Chrollo was now belatedly taking off his own pants and oh. Oh wow. The boss was not wearing any underwear. This meant that Phinks was being directly confronted with certain things that he'd thought wouldn't, well, come up quite yet. He hadn't had time to prepare himself. It was something of a shock, and the question whether it was a bad shock or a very welcome one was buzzing around Phinks' brain like a panicked fly, with no answer forthcoming.

It also meant that the boss probably did not wear underwear in general. The staggering implications of that fact loomed beyond reach, somewhere where they would come crashing down later when Phinks had time to focus on them and not the things he was currently focusing on.

Like, for instance, the fact that Chrollo was currently applying the lube, and in a way that suggested he'd done this enough times to know what he was doing. That was kind of gross (and Phinks made a mental note to keep away from those two particular fingers in the next hour or so). But it was also hot. It was, in a weird way, really hot. Phinks realized his mouth was actually watering.

_Like the boss is some kind of meal. No thanks. Cannibalism's for wimps who can't handle a little starvation._

Then he remembered - "shit, the fucking CONDOM -" which was in the pocket of his tracksuit sweatpants. He had to hunt around for those, which he'd tossed into a corner somewhere. When he retrieved it he noticed that the condom wrapper was bright pink with little hearts on it, and had a moment of realization. "Wait, where did this come from?"

"The one who threw it at you was probably Machi," said Chrollo, replacing the cap on the lube with a neat click. "Whenever there's someone she doesn't like whom she can't kill for whatever strategic reason, her solution is to put cheap condoms on their car exhaust pipes. I should discourage her but it is entertaining."

"Huh," said Phinks, examining the condom's tacky wrapper, which definitely looked to be of the cheap variety. Then he realized that he was now thinking about Machi's perpetual stare of unimpressedness, and also about car exhaust pipes, none of which was doing wonders for his boner.

"I should probably put this on," he said.

"Probably," Chrollo agreed, and Phinks looked back at him and the way he was sitting with his legs apart and his hair almost completely down around his face and _no pants on_ and oh good, no more trouble in the boner department. The actual application of the condom proved rather awkward, especially since he could feel Chrollo's eyes watching his progress minutely. What was he, evaluating him? Phinks huffed at the thought and ended up yanking the condom on with a little too much force, which was painful and made him have to take a moment to catch his breath. Yeah, he definitely looked impressive.

And then Chrollo leaned back - naked, he was stark fucking naked - and said, "Well, you can take it from here," and Phinks didn't quite have a coherent memory of what happened after that. He must have put it in at some point? Definitely that, at least. Really it would become an eternal regret that he couldn't fully remember the one opportunity he'd had to fuck the boss, but at the same time some inner part of him was relieved that the memory would never come back to strike him with a thunderbolt of pure humiliation out of the blue.

One thing he did remember was, about halfway through, becoming aware of a fact that was probably insignificant but also came to him as a major shock.

"You're still wearing socks!"

"Mmhmm," said Chrollo indistinctly.

Phinks tried to think of words, and came up with a strangled, breathless, "Why?"

"I suppose I forgot," said Chrollo, and, before Phinks could respond, gave him a pointed look. "Why have you stopped?"

 _Because you're still wearing socks_ , Phinks wanted to say, but there was really no way to do so, and he was stuck there trying to figure out how to explain to his boss that one did not wear socks during sex, especially if one wished to maintain one's aura of sexy mystery. Then Chrollo coughed politely, tapped him on the shoulder, and Phinks got the point.

Later Chrollo started talking.

It was nice at first, the boss’ velvet voice broken up into quick breaths, spewing a stream of words into his ear - “yes, that’s it, good, faster please” - the problem came when he started offering advice.

“No, not quite that angle, you had it and then you lost it, it takes practice -”

“All right,” said Phinks, feeling mostly sex-drunk.

“Yes, that’s better, keep up that pace, there’s really no need to hold back, are you feeling shy - ?”

“ _No_ ,” said Phinks, then, “ _please_ stop talking, it’s not - helping -”

Chrollo tsked, said, “All right, then,” and then fell silent. Well, not exactly silent, not really, but he wasn’t making words anymore, which was good, Phinks could actually focus -

After that - he definitely remembered coming, which was good because that part was almost devoid of embarrassment. It was pretty great, actually - enough to make his fingernails leave marks in the surface of the crate they were resting on, make his spine curl in on itself like a burning strip of paper. The only embarrassing part was when he said, no, gasped, " _Boss_ ," and then " _Chrollo_ -" with a certain amount of loud moaning in between too. A manly and satisfied grunt would have quite sufficed, thank you, he mentally told his vocal cords. Not that they'd ever listen.

It was also very nice when Chrollo came just after, and Phinks got to savor the feeling of the boss' legs tightening around his waist, fingertips squeezing against his shoulders, the way his head tipped back and his eyelashes fluttered closed. He wasn't very loud about it - a low, breathy moan that nonetheless did things to the pit of Phinks' stomach. It wasn't like he'd imagined the boss to be a screamer, anyway -

\- well, maybe he'd _imagined_ it, okay, but not in any _realistic_ sort of capacity -

Anyway.

The fact that Chrollo came so soon was really a blessing, a ray of fortuitous light amidst this utter mess, and Phinks thanked whatever diety he was supposed to believe in that he hadn't had to find an alternate solution to getting Chrollo off. He'd have had to - God, a handjob? A _blowjob_? Just the thought of it made him certain that if he'd had the opportunity to do any of that shit, he'd have died on the spot, just collapsed right there, the way people in the old stories died after staring into the face of a god.

"So did that help?" asked Chrollo.

Ummmmm. "Help?" repeated Phinks, his brain still a little fuzzy.

"With issues of distraction. Is that taken care of?"

Oh. Right. _That_. "Uhhh... I think."

"Hmmm. Good." Chrollo's voice rumbled pleasantly in Phinks' ears, and Phinks became aware that his head was resting on the boss' chest, the two of them sprawled over the pile of crates where they'd just had sex. (In a back alley. They'd had sex on a pile of crates in a back alley, with a couple of trash cans a few feet away. They'd _had sex_ -) Chrollo seemed to be sitting against the wall of the abandoned warehouse, aka their base.

Right. The base. They were on a schedule. Phinks really wanted to just doze and try to process everything that had just happened.

They lay there for a moment, Phink's cheek pressed against Chrollo's chest, sweat cooling on their skin. Chrollo's right nipple was directly in his field of vision; it moved up and down with both his breathing and his heartbeat. _That's really weird_ , thought Phinks, and just sort of watched it, and had a flash of memory of having licked that same nipple just a few minutes ago (Chrollo had looked at him askance, he remembered). There appeared to be a hickey forming a little above and to the left of it, which Phinks allowed himself to take a muddled pride in.

"Did you know," said Chrollo, "that in the Bible passage 1 Samuel 18:27, David brings 200 enemy foreskins to King Saul for his daughter's dowry?"

Phinks' entire mind ground to a slow halt, and it took several creaking efforts to get it going again. "Why," he managed.

"The Philistines were uncircumcised and that was a sin," said Chrollo, "although given that he only stole their foreskins after killing them, I can't imagine that it did much to redeem them. As for why it was Saul's daughter's dowry, I'm not sure. The original price was actually 100 foreskins, but David just went above and beyond, I suppose."

Phinks let out the long low moan of a man who has completely ceased to be able to process his situation. A moment later he realized that Chrollo was patting him awkwardly on the head, seeming a little confused. "Did that upset you?" The pats definitely had an apologetic quality. "Being close with Feitan, I'd have thought you'd be unfazed by mass genital mutilation -"

"'S not that," groaned Phinks. "It's just. Why. Why would you... mention it."

"Oh," said Chrollo, sounding a little puzzled, as though he hadn't even thought about it before. "I just thought of it and thought you might find it interesting." He appeared to stop and think. The nipple in Phinks' field of vision paused for a moment before resuming its even up-and-down motion. "I suppose I thought of it because of the connection between foreskin and what we were just doing. Also, that happens several verses after David and Jonathan become one in body and soul, which could be seen as relevant. In a way."

Phinks didn't really know what to say to that. He did not feel as if he had just become one with anyone's soul. (The closest he'd ever come to that had been when Shalnark had started Pakunoda when she was firing a memory bullet, and she'd ended up giving him a cluster of her stray thoughts; such as speculation on what it would be like to fold Feitan up in his own umbrella, a precise image of the color of Machi's eyes, and a faint but compelling urge to pet cats. He was pretty sure that was not what Chrollo was talking about.)

"Well, anyway," said Chrollo, and stirred. Phinks felt his own cheek unstick from the boss's chest, and reflexively made a noise of protest at the removal of the warmth.

"No need to complain," said Chrollo, sounding amused - again, shit. He gently pushed Phinks off of him. "We need to get dressed and make sure we leave on time. Not to mention we have to be ready to move out when they give the call. Where are your clothes?"

Phinks had to take a moment to process this, and then another moment to look around the back alley for where he might have dropped his tracksuit. Meanwhile, Chrollo was picking up the neat squares of clothing he'd folded earlier and carefully put aside, and Phinks realized, shit, maybe that hadn't been such a bad idea after all. Shouldn't have laughed at him earlier.

Phinks found his underwear in the gap between two crates, which meant he had to bend way over to reach it, exposing his bare ass to the foggy sky. (The several seconds it took to hook his fingers into the fabric were an agony of uncharacteristic self-consciousness and unwelcome cold breeze.) Then the undershirt, draped over a pipe on the wall, then the jacket and pants right where they'd done it. Shoes - he had to pull his socks back on first, and then tie his laces, and by the time he'd done all that Chrollo was waiting by the door, straightening his cuffs as if he hadn't just gotten fucked by his very confused subordinate.

"Shall we go?" said Chrollo. "We're on a schedule."

"Uh," said Phinks, and he realized that he was still staring at the suit Chrollo was wearing for the occasion, and that he was thinking _next time, we keep as many clothes on as possible_. Which he was not supposed to be thinking, because there was not going to be a next time, and most importantly his _wanting_ there to be a next time meant that the entire exercise had failed -

"Phinks," said Chrollo, and Phinks realized there were two hands on the side of his face, and that the boss was staring into his eyes. "Breathe."

Phinks filled his lungs with air and then let it out in a massive gust.

"Good. Your face was bright red, but it's getting better now. It's okay to get worked up over whatever it is, but save that for during the mission, all right?"

"All right," said Phinks.

"Just get into the field mindset. Tell yourself your own life is a tool, and -"

"- and the lives around me are only obstacles, and all lives including my own and those of my comrades should be considered only in terms of their importance to the continued survival of the spider," finished Phinks. "Yeah. Got that. Getting into that mode."

Chrollo was looking at him keenly. "Feel better?"

Phinks nodded.

"Good," said Chrollo, and released his face and then opened the door back into the warehouse and as soon as they stepped through they were met with a barrage of noise - mainly catcalls and wolf-whistles and unintelligible comments.

Phinks' zen mode evaporated. "SHUT UP!" he yelled, and felt his face turning red. "SHUT THE FUCK UP, IT'S DONE, IT'S OVER WITH, CAN YOU -"

"Everyone, be quiet." And there was Chrollo's hand on his shoulder. "You too, Phinks."

Phinks realized he'd been winding up his arm, and relaxed. He willed the anger to drain out of him, and it did - something that only loyalty to the boss could induce. It wasn't at all a matter of what had just happened, it was just the typical reflex of absolute obedience to the spider, and Phinks realized, _huh, maybe I can get through this after all. Maybe it really did help, maybe I'll just be able to think of the boss as just the boss without any fucking romance-novel dreams after this -_

Chrollo had been saying something - probably something important - but just then the timer on Shalnark's phone beeped. The air stilled. The mission was officially under way.

"Well, it's time," said Chrollo, and absently rolled his head from side to side, cracking his neck.

Phinks briefly thought of the way Chrollo's head had tilted back when he came, exposing the long smooth line of his throat, and also the quick, deadly grace with which the boss always moved in the heat of battle.

And the thought, _I'm fucked. And not in the way I'd like to be, either._

**Author's Note:**

> please comment if u can!!!! i thrive off comments and feedback and shit okay. the more detailed the comment the better
> 
> anyway I hope i have convinced at least one person to join the Rarepair of Sin and Hell


End file.
